Come Undone
by Maribells
Summary: After running out on her wedding, Blair returns to NYC to deal with the fallout. S5 one-shot. Pretty sad and angsty. **Now with much less angsty epilogue**
1. Chapter 1

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**A/N:** This is consistent with the show storyline up through 5x09, with one additional assumption (which should soon become clear). Inspired by the "save Chuck and Blair" fanfic prompt.

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**Come Undone**

_Who do you need?_

_Who do you love?_

_When you come undone_

_-Duran Duran_

**March 2012**

"Here we are, Miss Waldorf," the driver announced, slowing to a stop in front of the Empire's awning.

Feeling her heart flutter nervously in her chest, Blair stared out the window at the hotel's floodlit entrance. Flanked by monogrammed flags, brass fixtures, and uniformed attendants, it was an imposing sight to behold.

Perhaps it was just paranoia, but she could've sworn that a doorman was staring directly at her through the tinted glass.

"Drive around to the back," she instructed, retrieving a pair of oversized sunglasses from her handbag and putting them on.

Once they arrived at the deserted rear entrance, Blair got out of the car and hurriedly made her way to the door. She fumbled through the inner pockets of her handbag until she located her keycard, holding it nonchalantly in the direction of the security guard as she walked by. Thankfully, he spared her only a glance and a nod, and she strode quickly towards the main bank of elevators.

Keeping her face tilted away from the security camera- she knew exactly where it was positioned, since Chuck had once confiscated the footage after a particularly steamy foreplay session a couple of years ago- she swiped her card and hit the penthouse button.

When the indicator light blinked green, she released a long, shaky breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding.

Her key still worked.

It could be an oversight, she told herself. Maybe he'd forgotten she even had one. Or maybe he thought she wouldn't ever bother to use it again. Or dare.

But a tiny sliver of hope had lodged itself in her heart, and for all her caution, it refused to budge.

When the elevator opened, she made her way into the penthouse with cautious footsteps. It was exactly as she remembered it- tasteful, modern, and minimalist. There were few personal touches other than the artwork on the walls and a decanter of Scotch that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on the coffee table.

"Chuck?" she called out softly, surveying the living room before returning down the hall.

Lingering outside the closed door of his bedroom, she repeated his name, a little louder this time, but received only silence in response.

Steeling her nerves, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, taking a tentative step inside- only to realize that this room was empty as well.

Feeling temporarily deflated, she glanced at her watch, thinking to herself that he should be home by now. Maybe he had a late meeting, or a business dinner? Or maybe he was out of town? Blair blew out a frustrated sigh. She hadn't even stopped to consider that possibility.

She opened his closet door and took a quick glance inside- not snooping, of course, just looking- and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted his favorite garment bag. It was the only one that didn't crease his suit jackets, so he never went anywhere without it.

So… he had to come home eventually. She would just have to wait.

She dropped her handbag on his dresser, smiling wistfully at the small collection of framed pictures. She'd been the one to insist on it- a home isn't a home without some personal touches, she'd told him- but he'd chosen them himself. And a photo of the four of them sophomore year was still front and center. She had on her best camera-ready smile, Serena was laughing, Nate was making a goofy face, and Chuck… was smirking, as per usual. Right next to it was a picture from Bart and Lily's wedding- the bride and groom posing at the reception with their new blended family, Chuck's arm thrown casually around Eric's shoulders.

Looking at the pictures made her heart ache in her chest. God, she'd missed him.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she glanced at her watch again. She still had to go see her mother and Cyrus, Dorota, Serena, even Humphrey- she knew how worried they'd been, and she'd been gone nearly two months with only an apologetic voicemail to assure them she was alright.

Well, at least she knew that they would be happy and relieved to see her. She couldn't say the same for Chuck.

She knew there was a chance that she'd lost him for good this time- not just his love, but his friendship as well. And that possibility- the very thought of living the rest of her life without him in it- was enough to make a painful lump swell up in her throat.

Swallowing hard, she reminded herself that that was why she was here. Why she couldn't just give up.

In spite of all her fears, right now, this was the only place she wanted to be.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

_**January 2012**_

"_Blair?" Serena's voice echoed through the small dressing room. "Are you almost ready? It's quarter 'til…" She trailed off, looking surprised and confused at the sight of her best friend._

_Blair was seated in front of the vanity mirror, which reflected the image of a gorgeous bride in all of her wedding finery. Her petite figure was swathed in folds of silk chiffon and antique lace, and her strapless bodice tapered in to emphasize her tiny waist. Pearl buttons formed a neat line down the back of her gown, shining through the gauzy fabric of her veil, which was held in place by a sparkling crystal tiara. She looked every bit the elegant princess-to-be. _

_Except that she was currently hunched over, frantically scribbling onto a piece of stationary._

"_Your mom sent me to check on you," Serena went on, a note of concern creeping into her voice. "B, what's going on?"_

"_I can't do this," Blair interrupted, finishing the note with a jerky movement of her hand. _

"_Can't do… what?" Serena asked, dumbfounded. _

"_Get married," Blair responded, a tremulous note to her voice. "I just… I can't. "_

_She began trying to remove her veil, her motions becoming increasingly frantic as she realized it was securely pinned to her head._

"_Hey, hey, calm down," Serena said soothingly, taking a seat on the padded bench and placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. "B, it's okay. You're just having cold feet, it's totally normal. Don't make any rash decisions."_

"_I'm not," Blair refuted her, her trembling hands finally succeeding in pulling some of the pins out of her hair. "I knew this was a mistake. I've known…. for a long time."_

_Serena stared at her best friend, realization beginning to dawn on her face. _

"_You really… you don't want to do this?" she asked incredulously. "B, why didn't you say anything?"_

"_I don't know, I just…" Blair swallowed, feeling her eyes start to well up with tears again. "Louis has been so good to me, I thought that I…. that I should want it. And then the closer I got, I just felt more and more trapped… and I don't want to hurt him, but…" _

_She paused, staring down at the floor with sorrow and contrition written all over her face- and Serena took the opportunity to envelop her in a warm hug._

"_I'm so sorry, B, I had no idea," she murmured, stroking one hand down her friend's hair. "You know I'm here for you, whatever you decide to do."_

_Blair nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her shaking nerves. _

"_Could you… give this to Louis?" she asked hesitantly, with a gesture towards the note on the vanity. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I just… I just need to get out of here." She returned to pulling pins out of her hair._

"_Of course." Serena folded the piece of paper, taking care to avoid looking at its contents. "My mom and I can help take care of the guests- you just do whatever you need to do, okay?" _

"_Thank you," Blair whispered. "I'm so sorry for putting this on you, I know it's a lot to ask-"_

"_Don't be," Serena dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "What are best friends for?"_

_Serena proved herself surprisingly adept at organizing a getaway. Moments later, Blair was exiting the rear entrance of the church and entering an inconspicuous car. The driver made it back to her penthouse in record time, and she caused only a few raised eyebrows when she ran into the building in her wedding gown, unbustled train gripped tightly in one hand. _

_Finally alone in her room, she quickly undid the long line of buttons, the rustling fabric sliding down her body and pooling at her feet. Slipping the gown carefully onto a thickly padded hanger, she hung it on the back of her closet door. She trailed her fingers across the silky folds, giving it one last regretful look before reaching into her closet for something understated to wear._

_After she'd dressed, she hurriedly packed her suitcase, throwing in skirts, blouses and shoes until it bulged at the seams. She needed at least two weeks worth of outfits, she decided. After all, there might not be laundry service at her destination… wherever that was. _

_Zipping her suitcase closed, she took one last glance around her room. She felt… a little sad, she realized. And anxious, and regretful. But more than anything… she felt relieved. Like a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulders._

_After everything he'd done for her, it seemed so crass to view her relationship with Louis that way, she reflected sadly. Not only had he been willing to forgive her indiscretion with Chuck, he'd accepted its consequences with remarkable understanding. He'd stayed by her side through the most difficult ordeal of her life._

_And she'd repaid his devotion by leaving him at the altar, she thought with a sharp pang of guilt._

_But in her heart, she knew that she couldn't spend her life feigning a depth of emotion that she simply didn't feel. Louis had been so committed to their relationship that she had tried everything in her power to convince herself she felt the same way- but as much as she'd wanted to love him, she couldn't will herself to do so. And he didn't deserve to spend his life with someone who could muster only lukewarm affection for him._

_Someone who was still hopelessly in love with another man, she admitted to herself._

_She stared down at the enormous yellow diamond adorning her left hand for a moment, before twisting it off and setting it on her vanity. _

_Retrieving her cell phone from her white satin clutch, she thumbed through her contact list and paused on Chuck's name. She swallowed._

_As soon as she'd decided to flee her wedding, she'd known that this moment lay ahead of her- and she was petrified. Chuck might never be able to forgive her once he heard what she had to say. But she couldn't just keep hiding from him. She owed him the truth- even if it cost her everything._

_With shaking fingers, she clicked the "text" button and began to type out a message._

_She read it over, shook her head, and deleted it. She wrote another one- and discarded it as well._

_God, there was simply no way to broach this conversation via text message, she thought, rubbing her hand across her forehead. "I'm running away from my wedding. Want to come along?" was hopelessly gauche, and "We need to talk" was an understatement of epic proportions._

_She finally decided on something simple: "I need to see you." Nodding resolutely, she began composing the message._

_But before she could finish, her phone buzzed with an incoming Gossip Girl blast._

_Steeling her nerves in anticipation of the inevitable Runaway Princess Bride headline, Blair opened the message with a leaden feeling in her stomach. Frowning in confusion upon seeing a video link, she clicked on it, and a shaky camera-phone video began playing on the screen. The camera was trained on Louis as he strode out the front door of the church, wearing a perfectly-tailored tuxedo and elegant boutonniere… and an expression of self-righteous fury._

_She swallowed, her unease expanding into dread when the camera panned sideways, revealing the target of his wrath._

"_Chuck." Louis spat out the name as if it were an epithet, and Chuck turned to face him, frowning in confusion. _

_What was he even doing there?_ _Blair thought, wide-eyed with alarm. He'd been invited, of course, but she'd never expected him to actually attend. _

"_You did this, didn't you?" Louis snapped, accusation dripping from every word._

_Wedding guests, paparazzi and random passersby milling around the front steps of the church began to take notice of the tense situation, pausing their conversations and surreptitiously watching the two men. _

"_Did what?" Chuck asked, with a skeptical quirk of his eyebrow. _

"_I always knew," Louis continued bitterly, as if he hadn't even spoken. "I always knew there was something going on between you."_

_Understanding began to dawn in Chuck's eyes, but he remained silent, warily eying his adversary. The two men stared each other down, not even noticing the gathering crowd of onlookers. _

"_I should have known that she would rather be your whore," Louis bit out, "than my wife."_

_Chuck inhaled sharply, narrowing his eyes in response. _

"_I know how upset you must be-" he began, his jaw tensing from the effort of containing his own growing anger._

"_You think she'll be any different with you?" Louis derided him. "That she won't lie and cheat? Use you and then toss you aside?"_

_Louis scoffed bitterly._

"_She didn't even tell you she was _pregnant with your baby_," he spat out, his face twisted with vindictiveness._

_Blair felt the air leave her lungs in a sudden, violent exhalation. The phone almost fell from her hands. _

"_No," she whispered helplessly._

_Shock and disbelief flashed across Chuck's features, his reaction unfolding on her screen like a slow-motion nightmare._

"_No, she-" he faltered, shaking his head adamantly. "She had a paternity test done…"_

"_Which said that it wasn't mine," Louis retorted, his voice sharpening nastily over the last word. "I was willing to stay with her anyway, raise the baby as my own… and this is the thanks I get." _

_Chuck stiffened, almost flinching away from Louis' words, and she felt his pain like a physical blow._

_The crowd of spectators had erupted into a flurry of whispers- people pulling out their phones to take pictures or send text messages, sharing the lurid details of her most shameful secret. Her reputation, her entire life, crumbling to pieces in front of them._

_But all she could look at was Chuck._

_The taut, self-protective expression that couldn't disguise the devastation in his eyes. _

_She knew that as long as she lived, she would never forget the look on his face at that moment. _

_The video jostled sideways, and then cut out abruptly, and she was left staring at a blank screen, her features frozen in shock. Her stomach churning so violently, she thought was might be physically ill. _

_And then her phone vibrated, jarring her back to the present, and her breath caught when she realized it was a text message. _

_Three words, eight letters._

_**Is it true?**_

_Fighting back guilty tears, she typed out a response. The only thing she could possibly say._

_**I'm so sorry.**_

_She waited and waited for a response. Nothing. Her subsequent texts had been ignored, her phone calls unanswered. And so she'd had no choice but to flee the city alone- alone with her disgrace, her heartache, and her overwhelming regret. _

_She hadn't heard a word from Chuck since. _

_And then one day, two months later, she'd finally decided to take matters into her own hands._

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* * *

><p>.<p>

Chuck strode through the lobby of the Empire, nodding at his employees as he passed by the front desk. He finished texting a list of instructions to his assistant, pocketed his cell phone, and stepped into the elevator.

Swiping his keycard to gain access to the Penthouse, he allowed his head to drop back against the wall and released a weary sigh. The numbers on the digital display increased rapidly as the elevator sped towards the top floor- but even a brief moment alone with his thoughts unnerved him. This was why he preferred to stay as busy as possible, often staying at work until the early hours of the morning.

Retrieving his phone from his coat pocket, he distracted himself with his email for the remainder of the ride, barely lifting his gaze when the doors slid open to reveal his penthouse.

He was already through the doors and halfway across the foyer when he felt a familiar prickling sensation at the base of his spine. Coming to an immediate halt, he surveyed his apartment warily, trying to identify the source of his unease.

When he took a deep, steadying breath, it hit him- the faint but unmistakable scent of Chanel No. 5 in the air.

Blair was here.

The realization left him with a confusing jumble of emotions, anticipation wrestling with anxiety and resentment. Part of him had known that this encounter was inevitable. Everything he'd done over the past few months- ignoring phone calls, retreating into his work, refusing to have a real discussion about the situation with anyone- had only served to delay this moment.

He'd known he would have to face her eventually, but he wasn't ready yet. But then again, he never would be. Nothing could ever truly prepare him for this conversation.

Spotting his bedroom door slightly ajar, he slowly made his way towards it. He arranged his features into a mask of composure, determined to remain outwardly calm even as his heart pounded nervously in his chest.

But when he finally pushed the door open, expecting to find her wide brown eyes staring back at him, his gaze fell instead on the petite figure curled up on his bed... sound asleep. She was lying on top of the covers, the folds of a red skirt draped around her legs, glossy curls spread across the pillow in a deep brown swath. A set of black pumps sat on the floor next to the bed and a matching coat hung neatly on the back of his leather armchair.

He drank in every facet of her appearance- from the dark fringed lashes resting against her cheeks, all the way down to her stocking-clad toes, curled up in response to the slight chill in his apartment.

God, he still loved her so fucking much.

And he hated himself for it.

In spite of everything, part of him was glad that she wasn't awake yet. He could almost pretend that he was returning from work to find his adoring girlfriend, the love of his life, sleeping in his bed- waiting for him to come home to her, and rouse her with a kiss that left them both breathless in its wake.

He could momentarily forget that she had betrayed him so badly, he wasn't sure he would ever recover…. or that she was here for a confrontation he was dreading with every fiber of his being.

So he took a moment to indulge himself, to stare unabashedly at her sleeping form with all of the longing he'd tried to suppress. To imagine that the last two years had been nothing but a nightmare, and this happy fantasy was still his life.

Then Blair stirred, and the spell was broken.

Pulling herself to a sitting position, she blinked the sleep from her eyes, glancing around the room in confusion- until her gaze fell upon him. A jolt of electricity passed between them as their eyes met, hers wide with apprehension, his dark and fathomless.

Sliding to the side of the bed, she set her feet on the floor, keeping her gaze fixed on his. She swallowed nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear, as if waiting to be lambasted.

But he remained silent, keeping his expression impassive. He wasn't about to rant and rave, or demand an explanation, or have her thrown out by security.

He was going to force her to make the first move.

"Chuck..." she began hesitantly. "I know... I know I shouldn't be in here. But... my key still worked, so I figured I would just... wait for you."

She said it with the barest hint of optimism in her voice, as if that simple fact had given her hope.

And still he said nothing. He just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. To address the source of the thick, suffocating tension hanging between them.

"You didn't answer any of my calls or texts," she went on, averting her eyes. "And I thought we needed to talk."

Again she paused, twisting her fingers together nervously and staring down at them.

"So talk," he said quietly. His low, husky voice, barely higher than a whisper, resonated throughout the silence of the bedroom.

She took a deep, trembling breath.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly. Her gaze fixed intently on his own, as if willing him to believe in her contrition. "I'm sorry for lying to you, I'm sorry for lying to... everyone. I'm sorry you found out the way you did."

He nodded in acknowledgment, if not exactly acceptance.

"I was going to tell you," she continued, her voice full of sincerity and regret. "That day, when I texted you about meeting me for dinner, I was going to... but then..." she trailed off.

He didn't need her to finish the sentence. That horrible November afternoon was seared into his memory.

She'd been rushed to the hospital in a vain attempt to save her baby... their baby, he mentally corrected. And he had waited at the hospital with the rest of her friends and family, scared out of his mind that he might lose her.

Until the day of her wedding, he'd had no idea what he'd actually lost.

"And... after that," she went on in a wavering tone. "I thought that telling you would only hurt you, because it was... too late."

So all her lies had somehow been for his benefit? He clenched his jaw, feeling indignation rising within him at the suggestion.

"You lied to my face, Blair," he said in a low voice, struggling to keep his temper in check. "You told me the baby wasn't mine."

"That's true," she admitted, seeming suddenly unable to look him in the eye. "I convinced myself that what I did... was in the best interests of my child. I didn't think you wanted to be a father and I didn't think... you were capable of it."

"You _never even gave me a chance_," he retorted, his voice rising to almost a shout. She flinched and he took several deep breaths in an attempt to compose himself.

"I know," she said remorsefully. "I made a mistake, Chuck. And then once I'd lied, everything just... snowballed and I didn't know how to fix it. I was so worried what everyone would think of me- what _you _would think of me... I just felt trapped and I didn't know what to do."

He nodded tersely, his blank expression betraying none of the violent emotions churning through his mind.

"I'm not trying to make excuses, or justify any of it," she added hastily. "I just want you to know that... that I didn't do it to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing at first, and then I realized it was a mistake, and then... and then it was all over." Her voice broke over the last phrase, and she blinked rapidly to hold back the tears he knew were gathering in her eyes.

"What it is you want from me, Blair?" he asked after a long pause.

"Forgiveness," she whispered. "A chance to... try and make amends."

And he looked back at her- at her pleading eyes, shining with moisture, her trembling hands, the desperation in her face- and all of his instincts were screaming at him to just take her in his arms and forget any of this had ever happened.

All of his instincts, except his own sense of self-preservation.

"I understand..." He paused, struggling to get the words out. "I understand why you didn't think I was ready to raise a child. I'd certainly given you no reason to believe otherwise."

The admission was painful, but there was no point in whitewashing the past. He hadn't exactly behaved like Father of the Year material for the first twenty years of his life.

"And I know you're sorry," he went on, his voice growing calmer and more self-assured. "So yes... I forgive you."

He could see her visibly relax in response, her face shining with relief and tentative hope.

Gathering together the tattered fragments of his pride, he forced himself to finish.

"But as far as you and I go... we're done," he finished quietly.

An extended silence fell between them as Blair absorbed his words. He averted his gaze, because no amount of justification or moral high ground made it any easier to see the pain in her eyes.

"Do you not love me anymore?" she asked softly.

"I didn't say that," he replied, rubbing one hand along his jaw.

"But..." she hesitated a moment. "If you love me, and you forgive me, then... I don't understand."

"It's not about that, Blair." He exhaled a sigh of frustration before finally meeting her eyes again. "It's not about love, or forgiveness. It's not about what you did- it's why you did it."

She shook her head, her brow furrowing in confusion.

A little voice whispered in his ear, telling him that he should just forget about his dignity and his self-respect and take whatever she was willing to offer him.

He ignored it.

"You lied because you didn't _want_ me to be the father," he said regretfully, finally voicing what had tormented him ever since he'd found out the truth. "You wanted so badly for me to _not_ be the father of your child, you were willing to do anything to prevent that from happening."

Blair stared back at him, her lips parted in dismay.

"And I know I've made a lot of mistakes in my life," he continued sadly, feeling a dull ache permeate his chest. "But I have to believe I deserve someone who would... want that."

"But I did," she protested earnestly.

"Some small part of you, right?" His mouth twisted into a humorless smile. "Yeah, I remember."

"Chuck, I was just scared and confused, and I didn't know what to do," she pleaded. "It's not that I didn't... want that, I just needed time... to figure everything out. But when I did…it was too late."

God, it would be so easy to just take her back, he thought. Admit that he was miserable without her and pretend everything could be fixed.

But as much as he loved her, he was no longer willing to be her second choice. Her backup plan when everything else fell through. The bad habit she could never quite shake.

"I'm sorry," he replied, forcing himself to sound resolved. "But you're right. It _is_ too late."

Despite his certainty that he was making the right decision, he still had to turn his gaze away from the pitiful quiver of her lower lip, the tears threatening to overflow her big brown eyes.

Attempting to gather her composure, she straightened her shoulders and nodded.

"I should go," she said quietly.

He watched as she turned to retrieve her coat, the red fabric of her skirt flaring out before settling around her knees once again. She'd certainly lost all of her pregnancy weight, he observed- if anything, she was even thinner than she'd been before.

His eyes trailed over her body, noting her frailty with increasing concern. She looked beautiful, of course- she always did- but her tiny frame was drowning in her frilly chiffon blouse, her collarbone protruding visibly beneath almost translucent skin. And he could see the red-rimmed eyes and dark circles hidden below layers of expertly-applied makeup.

Chuck felt a stab of worry laced with guilt, as he remembered the dozens of phone calls and text messages he'd ignored over the last few months.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he suddenly realized that she wasn't paying any attention to him. She was standing motionless in front of his dresser, her hand suspended in the air above the handbag she'd been reaching for.

When he followed her gaze to a black-and-white image, tucked discreetly behind the collection of framed family photos, his heart stuttered in his chest.

"Where did you get this?" she whispered in disbelief, pulling it out from behind the frame.

"I..." He faltered, his breath caught in his throat, as she stroked the sonogram with trembling fingers. There was no use denying what it was- she likely would've recognized it even without her own name printed across the top.

"From Mount Sinai," he admitted. "Apparently a donation to their pediatric research foundation was enough to buy a... momentary lapse in medical ethics."

"Why?" Her hushed question was barely audible.

"I just wanted to..." He trailed off, struggling to put his feelings into words. "Have something," he finished weakly.

He didn't know how else to explain his desperate desire to have some tangible evidence of his child's existence. Some connection to the son he'd never even known.

He'd spent hours studying it, using an article he'd found on the internet to identify the baby's features- a foot, an ear, a tiny hand obscuring his face from view. Staring at that grainy, abstract image, he'd tried to imagine what his son would've looked like. He could picture a little boy with wavy dark hair. Blair's deep brown eyes and perfectly-shaped nose. His jawline. A mischievous expression on his face, courtesy of both parents.

He liked to imagine that his child would've loved him, if only because he didn't know any better.

Roused from his introspection by the splatter of a teardrop onto the dresser's glossy surface, he realized that Blair was crying, tears running silently down both cheeks.

"I have all of them," she said in a wavering voice, returning the picture to its former position. "In a scrapbook I was... making for him. If you want... to see." Her shoulders shook from the effort of holding herself together.

"Blair..." His heart twisted in his chest. He'd seen her cry before- usually because of something he'd done- but he'd never seen her look so anguished, so broken.

"Don't," she responded hoarsely, swiping the tears away with the back of her hand. "I don't want your pity, Chuck. I know this is my own fault."

"Losing the baby?" he asked, frowning in confusion. "Blair, that wasn't your fault. It wasn't... anyone's fault." He swallowed as he recalled his own struggle to come to terms with that fact, with the cruel twist of fate they'd been dealt.

"I was so stressed about everything," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Worried about lying to everyone. Trying to decide what to do. Planning my stupid wedding." She shook her head, tears streaming unabated down her face. "I wasn't taking care of myself. And I wasn't taking care of him." Her voice broke over the last words, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, attempting to stifle a sob.

"Blair," he protested, staring at her with disbelief and increasing concern. "You can't blame yourself, you didn't do anything wrong. Miscarriages happen all the time. Anywhere from 10 to 25 percent of pregnancies-"

"Miscarriages don't just _happen_ 24 weeks in," she said in a quavering voice. "My nerves were shot. My blood pressure was too high. I wasn't paying enough attention to what I was eating, I got halfway through a tuna steak before I remembered about the mercury. I forgot to take my prenatal vitamins twice that week." She wrapped her arms around her middle, bowing her head as she tried to steady her shaking body. "I killed him," she whispered, her voice choked with grief.

Chuck felt an agonizing tightness in his chest as he realized that Blair had been suffering more than he'd ever imagined.

Feeling an almost visceral need to comfort her, he took several steps forward, gripping her upper arms and pulling her into him- and she resisted for only a moment before dropping her coat to the floor and sagging against his chest, her tiny body wracked with sobs. Embracing her as tightly as he dared, he stroked her back with one hand and murmured words of comfort against the top of her head.

"I'm... so sorry," she whispered into his chest, her speech punctuated with sharp little gasps as she tried to control her breathing. "I knew you'd hate me for it. I only... went through with the wedding because I knew... I knew you could never forgive me."

"Blair, this wasn't your fault," he assured her. "You didn't lose the baby because you ate the wrong fish, or skipped a day of vitamins. There was just something... wrong with him." He swallowed tightly. "There was nothing anyone could've done."

She said nothing in response, her face pressed into the crook of his neck, fingers curling into the damp fabric of his shirt.

"_Blair_," he repeated, more insistently this time. "It wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you." Pulling one hand around, he cupped her chin and tilted it up, forcing her to look at him. "You believe me, right?"

She stared up at him, her wide brown eyes still wet with tears, her silence punctuated by a single pitiful hiccup.

"Tell me you believe me," he demanded, starting to worry that he wouldn't be able to convince her. His hand slid from his chin up to her cheek, brushing away the lingering tears. "Blair, please," he entreated.

She nodded- unconvincingly, but it was something.

Taking her hand in his, he took a seat on the bed and drew her down next to him. Lying back against the pillows, he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and still they remained like that, both lost in thought. The atmosphere felt somber, the silence interrupted only by an occasional sniffle from Blair.

"Today was my due date."

His breath caught at the whispered admission.

"What?" he asked faintly.

"Today..." She swallowed, pressing her face into his shoulder. "He was supposed to be born today."

All of the hurt, the anger, the regret he'd experienced hadn't prepared him for the crushing sense of loss he felt at that moment.

He'd struggled to accept what had happened, to reconcile himself to the reality of his son's brief existence. And now, as his throat constricted until he could barely breathe, he finally felt the grief that had eluded him. It coursed through his body, twisting his insides until he was certain the pain would tear him in two.

He tightened his arm around Blair, keeping her snug against his shoulder so she couldn't see the anguish on his face- but a single tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek and neck until it mingled with the damp patch on the front of his shirt.

"We would've had a baby together," Blair whispered against his chest, unaware of his reaction. "We would've had our own family..."

He swallowed hard, feeling another tear trickle down his face.

"I wanted that so much," she continued in a trembling voice. "Even when I knew I wasn't supposed to… I still did. More than I've ever wanted anything."

"I did too," he admitted, his voice raw with barely-repressed emotion.

_I still do._

The thought echoed through his head, his mind bombarding him with images of Blair holding their baby, rocking him, smiling adoringly down at his innocent little face. And the sheer unfairness of it all- of knowing that his dream had actually been within his grasp, only to be yanked away in the most heart-wrenching manner possible- was almost too much to bear.

He heard a muffled sob, her shoulders shaking against him as she began to cry in earnest. Instinctively pulling her closer, he enveloped her in both arms and pressed his face into her hair... fighting a losing battle against the tears welling up in his own eyes, until he gave up trying to contain them.

And lying in that darkened room, with Blair clasped tightly in his arms, he finally allowed himself to mourn. To curse at God, fate, nature- whoever was responsible for taking away his child before he even had a chance to live.

The pain was relentless, excruciating. Almost unbearable.

But it was cathartic to finally let himself experience the grief he'd been suppressing for so long. To lower his defenses and share the burden he'd been shouldering alone, with the only other person who could possibly understand what he was going through.

Eventually Blair's sobs petered out as her body grew limp with exhaustion in his arms. He stroked his hand across her tousled curls, wondering if she'd fallen asleep.

Until he felt her tense against him and draw a deep, wavering breath.

"Chuck, do you think..." she whispered, her hoarse voice cutting through the stillness that surrounded them. "Do you think we could ever get past this? And be... together again?"

"I don't know," he murmured. He could feel her nod before she burrowed her face against his chest, pressing it into the tear-soaked fabric of his shirt.

Even as he said the words, he knew he was lying. Despite his attempt to maintain some semblance of dignity, part of him had been ready to forgive her the moment he'd come home to find her curled up in his bed. And when faced with her tearful brown eyes, filled with remorse, desperation, and hope... his remaining defenses had crumbled.

Because he could no sooner stop loving her than he could stop breathing. And after facing the prospect of a lifetime without her, he knew he could never let her go again.

But for now, all they could do was hold each other and grieve together. Grieve for the child they had lost, the hurt they had caused each other, and the love that had been battered and bruised almost beyond repair.

Hold each other, and hope that the comfort and strength they found in each other's arms would be enough to get them through it.

Long after their tears had stopped falling and their trembling breaths had eased to a deep, even rhythm, they remained curled up together. Blair's head grew heavy on his shoulder, her body relaxing against him as she drifted off into an exhausted slumber.

And as the hours ticked by, pink streaks of dawn painting their way across the night sky, Chuck finally found the elusive sense of peace that he'd been seeking- in the warmth of her embrace, the steady cadence of her heart beating against him. The dainty hand resting almost protectively over his chest.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, drawing her tightly against him and tucking her head underneath his chin, before finally succumbing to sleep.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:** Thanks to Terrabeth, as usual, for her never-ending efforts to improve my writing. They're always very much appreciated, despite my occasional grumbling :)

And to everyone else- I hope you enjoyed, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. It's more somber than my usual fare, but that just seems to be the place CB are in on the show right now. I might consider writing an epilogue, a little ways into the future, if people are interested.


	2. Epilogue

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**A/N: **This epilogue takes place almost two years after the last chapter. Rated M, for serious sexy business. If that's not your thing… the last scene is still rated T, and works fine on its own.

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**December 2013**

Blair hummed to herself as she lit the last remaining candles, arranging them in a semi-circle on the polished wooden dresser. After ensuring that they were positioned just right, their flickering yellow flames reflected in the dresser mirror, she took a step back to admire the muted glow they cast over the bedroom.

It was tasteful and romantic, she decided. Sexy without looking like a cheap romance novel.

She fluffed up the satin pillows she'd scattered across the bedsheets, before turning her attention to the bedside table. She'd laid out a selection of silk scarves, some massage oil, and a few of her other favorite accessories. Just in case they were feeling creative.

Although given the mood she was in right now, it didn't seem likely. Chuck had been overseas on business the week before, and then she'd been swamped with final exams and projects, so they'd barely seen each other in two weeks.

Two weeks, without sex.

This near-unprecedented dry spell wasn't the only reason she'd managed to finish up her last paper a day early- but it had definitely been a motivating factor.

He'd be lucky if he even made it past the foyer with his pants on, she thought with a wicked smirk.

She took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her mahogany curls. She'd arranged them into a loose updo, teasing out a few ringlets to draw attention to the curve of her neck. The red silk babydoll emphasized her breasts, which swelled alluringly above lace-trimmed cups, the sheer chiffon skirt skimming over the rest of her curves. Her lips were tinted a deep red to match, a layer of gloss highlighting their pouty fullness.

And she'd left a trail of perfume for him to follow, leaving light dabs along her neck, down between her breasts, over to her hipbone, finally ending on the soft skin of her inner thigh. Not that he generally needed any nudging in that direction, of course… but a little encouragement never hurt.

Nodding in approval at her reflection, she went over her mental checklist one last time.

Staging- check. Costuming- check.

Naughty text message- sent.

For dinner, she'd ordered a selection of Chuck's favorites from Le Cirque, which the staff was currently setting up out in the living room.

And dessert was already taken care of, nestled in a silver bucket of ice next to the bed. The cannister of whipped cream did look rather… awkward in there, she thought, eying it critically. But what it lacked in form, it more than made up for in functionality.

Feeling assured that her plan was foolproof, she let herself relax a little. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation of the evening ahead, and her cheeks tinted pink as she envisioned Chuck tearing the lingerie off and ravishing her eager body. Just the mental image alone was enough to produce a pooling of heat between her thighs.

She sat down on the bed and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Only fifteen more minutes, she thought, unable to suppress a giddy little smile of excitement.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

Chuck stepped off the elevator, swiping one hand tiredly through his hair before shrugging out of his wool overcoat and hanging it in the closet. Negotiations with the German investment group had dragged on late into the evening, with the two parties locked in a disagreement over his expansion plan for hours. Even though they'd eventually conceded, he felt drained, grumpy, and in desperate need of a drink.

He came to a sudden halt, his brow furrowing in confusion at the unexpected aroma in the air.

It smelled like… steak.

He would have guessed that Nate had ordered takeout, but he was away at a lacrosse tournament. The only other person with access to the penthouse was Blair, and she had made it quite clear that she was _not_ to be disturbed until she turned in her econ paper tomorrow. So the meaty aroma in his apartment was somewhat of a mystery.

He continued into the living room and spied a table set for two in the center of the room. Two domed plates sat on its surface, along with an unopened bottle of his favorite French Bordeaux. In the center of the table was a platter of untouched oysters, floating sadly in a pool of mostly-melted ice, along with a dish of caviar and toast points. He lifted up one dome lid to reveal a perfectly medium-rare, but ice cold, New York strip steak. The rest of the plate was empty, although traces of mashed potatoes and creamed spinach were still visible.

After lifting up the other dome to find the scant remains of a Black Cod fillet, his suspicions were confirmed.

Blair was here. And she was probably- _definitely-_ not happy with him. And he had no idea why.

Making his way back down the hallway, he reached his bedroom and turned the knob, quietly nudging open the door in case she was already asleep.

But instead of a peacefully slumbering Blair, he found a quietly fuming one. She was sitting up in bed reading, a mass of pillows propped behind her back, a skimpy red silk robe tied around her body. She didn't even look up as he entered, glowering down at her book until he half-expected her to bore a hole in it with her eyes.

He took a quick glance around the room, noting the candles burned down almost to their stubs. The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, and the nightstand drawer- which they fondly referred to as their "naughty drawer"- was slightly ajar, as if it'd been slammed shut.

"Looks like I'm late for the party," he commented in a neutral tone, removing his suit jacket and draping it on the back of his leather armchair.

Her eyes flashed up at him furiously, and he was reminded once again of just how sexy Blair looked when she was pissed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shone with ire, and her breasts were… well, heaving, for lack of a better term.

Chuck allowed his gaze to linger, enjoying the way the creamy swells rose and fell with each indignant breath she took.

"Oh, the party's over," she replied haughtily, snapping the next page of her book over without even looking at it. "Don't worry, though, it was still perfectly fun without you."

"Was it now?" he murmured. He took a few steps closer to the bed, eying the outline of her body under the robe intently. "Well, I would certainly be interested in a recap."

Blair narrowed her eyes at him.

"Unfortunately, you forfeited that opportunity when you decided to come home four hours late and not even bother telling me," she snapped. "So I hope you enjoyed your _business meeting_."

The amount of disgust she infused into the words made it sound like he'd been smoking meth in a gutter, not negotiating a multi-million-dollar deal with European hoteliers.

"I'm sorry, and how exactly was I supposed to know you expected me home four hours ago?" he queried, eyebrows raised. "You specifically told me to _not even think_ about bothering you until you turned in your last final."

"Because I texted you this afternoon." She blew out a frustrated breath. "And don't pretend you didn't get it, you and I both know you can't go five minutes without checking your phone-"

"You didn't text me," he interrupted, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it over to her.

She glared at him briefly before looking for herself.

"This doesn't mean anything, you could've just deleted it," she said dismissively, tossing it onto the bed.

"Why would I have done that?" he wanted to know. "Maybe you should take a look at _your_ phone and make sure that you actually sent it."

Blair rolled her eyes.

"I'm not an idiot, Chuck." She retrieved her phone from the nightstand and began scrolling through her messages. "I know how to send a…"

Her voice trailed off as confusion replaced the indignation on her face.

"You were saying?" he prodded her.

"But I know I sent it to you …" She shook her head, her eyes widening in alarm. "Oh my God."

"You sent it to someone else," he realized, unable to conceal the mirth in his voice.

"But… how could…" she sputtered.

"Some Android phones have a bug in their text messaging software, so when you click on a contact, it takes you to another one instead." He shrugged and gave her a wry grin. "Maybe if you'd listened to me about upgrading-"

"Oh my God," she repeated disgustedly, still staring at her phone.

"So… who did you send it to?" he asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

Dan had just settled down on the sofa, a steaming mug of hot cocoa in one hand and the latest issue of the New Yorker in the other, ready to relax after a long afternoon of studying for finals.

He suddenly noticed his phone on the coffee table, the indicator light blinking green.

Must've left it here all day, he thought. Flipping it open, he clicked on the incoming text message.

**Require your cock ASAP. Be at the penthouse at 8. This is not negotiable. Love, B. **

He choked on his drink, spewing droplets of cocoa all over the screen.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

Chuck snorted with laughter.

"Poor little Humphrey," he said, watching with amusement as Blair hurriedly typed out another text message- **Wrong number. Plz disregard.** "You're lucky he didn't try to take you up on it."

"Ugh." Blair grimaced. "Perish the thought."

"What did your message say, exactly?" he asked curiously, his brow furrowing as a sudden thought occurred to him. "You didn't send a photo, did you?"

That possibility, he realized, was where his amusement ended.

"Of course not." She rolled her eyes. "I'm not exactly the picture of sex appeal at the moment, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Ah, but that's where we disagree," he countered, skimming one finger across her collarbone and watching the trail of goosebumps that followed. "Because I happen to find you very, _very_ sexy at the moment…"

Once she was sufficiently distracted, he reached in and snatched the phone from her grip.

He read her first message aloud, delighting in the flush of embarrassment that crept up her neck to her cheeks.

"Well, I feel like I should be offended by you treating me like… a piece of meat," he commented, grinning when she blushed even further. "But under the circumstances, I'm willing to let it slide."

Her glare indicated that she was clearly not enjoying his amusement at her expense.

"Sorry, not in the mood anymore," she shot back, pulling her robe tighter across her chest.

"Is that so?" He set the phone on the nightstand and took a seat on the bed, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. He smirked when she scooted away from him.

He did _so_ enjoy this particular game.

"I told you, I took care of things myself," she replied haughtily, her breath catching when he traced his fingers down the side of her neck, down between her breasts to the tie of her robe. He undid it in one smooth motion and slid the silky fabric over her shoulders, pausing to admire the lingerie as it was revealed.

"Mmm," he hummed his approval, tracing along one slender strap with the back of his finger. "Is this new?"

"Maybe," she responded in a petulant tone.

She kept her eyes fixed over his shoulder, pretending to be unaffected by his touch.

But when he leaned in and pressed a kiss against her neck, right under her jawbone, he could feel her pulse racing against his lips. He continued kissing his way down to her shoulder, feeling her neck arch back against his hand.

"You smell incredible," he murmured into her skin.

When he slid his hand down to cup her breast, rubbing his thumb against her nipple with slow, lazy circles until he could feel it peak through the silk, he heard the soft purr in her throat that she couldn't quite contain.

"So…" he said huskily, lips still pressed to her neck. "You took care of things yourself, hmm?"

"That's right," she replied, a breathless note to her voice.

"And what were you thinking about," he murmured, "while you were touching yourself?"

He continued to fondle her breast, savoring the warm weight in his hand and teasing her nipple between his fingers. He scraped his teeth lightly on the delicate skin of her neck and felt her shudder against him.

"You," she finally admitted.

Her hands clenched into the bedsheets as he ran his tongue across the tender flesh. With unhurried movements, he began undoing the ribbon tie holding her negligee closed.

"And what was I doing?" His mouth continued its exploration southward, moving along the upper slope of her cleavage. "Making love to you?"

She stiffened beneath him.

"Chuck, what did I tell you about that phrase-"

"That it's for boring middle-aged married couples and Viagra commercials," He recited, chuckling. "Well then… was I _fucking_ you?" he continued in a low voice. He finally pulled open the front of her negligee, cupping her bare breasts with both hands and gazing down at her figure with open appreciation.

"Yes," she sighed happily, her eyes fluttering closed.

He leaned down to take one taut nipple into his mouth and she arched her back, unable to contain a soft moan. They were so sensitive- sometimes unbearably so- but right now his gentle suckling was sending throbs of pleasure straight to her core.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, urging him on, and he moved down to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along the rounded curve of her belly.

He lingered there, running his hands over the increasingly pronounced swell and regarding it with a mixture of affection and awe. Despite her initial insecurities, she'd soon discovered that he was quite fond of her new curves... if anything, he actually seemed to find them arousing.

But while she adored the attention, she was much too impatient to appreciate it right now.

"Enough foreplay, Bass," she commanded. "Get to the good stuff."

She felt him smile against her stomach.

"My my, aren't we demanding today," he teased. With painstakingly slow movements, he kissed his way down to her hips, then brushed his lips against her inner thighs- first one, then the other. She could feel his breath stirring the soft curls between them, and had to restrain herself from bucking upwards to meet his mouth.

Finally, he pressed his lips against her very center, his tongue darting out to taste her. She moaned in approval, her head rolling back against the pillows as he began lapping at her with rhythmic strokes. Sliding his hand up her thigh, he deftly parted her folds- slipping first one, and then two fingers inside of her.

"Fuck, Blair, you're so wet," he groaned.

He plunged his fingers into her with slow, gentle thrusts while he lapped at her swollen clit- and her body responded to the rush of pleasure surging through her, arching instinctively towards its source.

"Oh God, yes," she let out in a broken whisper. Her fingers clenched in his hair as she moved her hips in rhythm with his movements.

But he grasped her thigh with his other hand, holding her in place while he continued his delicious torment- every lick and stroke intensifying the tight, coiling need building inside of her.

In only a couple of minutes, she felt herself rapidly approaching her peak. Her body shook with ecstasy as she came undone beneath him, her gratified whimpers echoing throughout the bedroom.

Dazed and still quivering with aftershocks, she felt him kiss his way back up her body, deftly shedding his own clothing along the way. And she watched, breathless with anticipation, as he finally removed his boxers. His rigid shaft jutted between them, and she reached down to take it into her hand.

Caressing him with long, smooth strokes, she reveled in its length, and thickness, and heat; the soft, velvety skin; the way it grew even harder in her grasp. His eyelids fluttered shut as she stroked him, his lips parting to release a low moan.

Soon his features tightened from the effort of maintaining control, and he pulled her hand away. Grasping both wrists with his hands, he raised them over her head, pinning them to the pillow with one of his.

He gazed down at her exposed body, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. With his free hand, he rubbed the head of his cock across her opening, smirking in satisfaction when she whined impatiently.

"You know, patience is a virtue," he informed her, smirking when she glared back at him.

Realizing that this strategy would only make him tease her further, she quickly switched gears. Slowly, provocatively, she trailed her gaze over his body, sinking her teeth into her plump lower lip with a look of repressed longing. She pretended to struggle against his restraining hands, her back arching upwards towards his darkening eyes- before letting out a low moan of submission and allowing her head to roll back onto the pillow.

She could hear his sharp intake of breath moments before his lips claimed hers, his tongue thrusting aggressively against her own.

_Gotcha_, she thought triumphantly.

Then with one smooth, deliberate motion, he thrust into her, and she gasped into his mouth at the sensation- at the exquisite fullness of having him buried inside of her. He released her wrists to pull back and grip her hips with both hands, controlling the speed and depth of his thrusts.

Her body responded eagerly to the primal motion, her hips bucking against his, her hands clutching at his back. His cock slid back and forth inside her with such delicious friction, she felt electricity tingling through every one of her nerve endings.

But he kept his rhythm slow, his thrusts gentle, despite her attempts to urge him on.

"Harder," she whispered desperately.

She slid her hands down to grip his buttocks and pull him in further, mewing in frustration when he didn't comply.

"Chuck, please," she begged.

He leaned forward to prop himself on his forearm next to her head, his thrusts slowing to a halt.

"Blair, I don't…" he whispered, his eyes closing in pleasurable agony as her inner muscles tightened around him. "I don't want to hurt the baby."

She blinked in surprise.

"But the doctor said-"

"I know, I just… I don't want to take the risk," he insisted softly.

"Okay," she murmured. She slid her hands up to either side of his face, pulling him in for a deep kiss. As their tongues danced together, she could feel him twitch inside of her and she purred low in her throat.

With their mouths still fused together, he resumed his movements, tilting her pelvis against him while he rocked his hips gently into hers. She ran her hands down his neck to his chest, combing lightly through the coarse hair sprinkled across it and savoring the feeling of his smooth, hot skin under her fingertips.

Suddenly he pulled his bead back, just far enough to look at her- and she found herself caught in his gaze, mesmerized by the barely-controlled hunger in his eyes.

Still staring into her eyes, he deepened his thrusts, but only a little, and kept going at the same maddening, tantalizingly slow pace. Blair moaned softly, tightening her legs around his waist and digging her heels into the back of his thighs.

Her entire body was straining towards release- it was barely, just barely out of reach…

Just as she thought she might go out of her mind with want, she began to feel the first swells of an orgasm rising inside her. She undulated against him in desperation, but he continued thrusting at the same tempo, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he struggled to restrain himself.

Yet the feeling continued to intensify, growing stronger and stronger until she was shuddering uncontrollably beneath him. Her muscles clenched around him as the blissful sensation pulsed through her body, her own wanton moans echoing in her ears... turning into broken whimpers as the waves of pleasure refused to subside.

Through a haze of ecstasy, she felt his fingers clench on her thigh. His teeth sank into her skin, his hips rocking into her with tight, erratic thrusts- until finally he choked out a low groan into her neck, shuddering as he came deep inside of her.

He stayed propped up on his forearm for several moments, breathing heavily against her cheek, before rolling them both to the side. He kept their bodies connected- her thigh draped around his waist, his hand sliding up to tangle in her hair.

"I'm sorry if it's not as… satisfying for you like that," he said against her ear, and she couldn't help smiling at the distaste in his voice.

"It was great," she said breathily.

She decided not to mention that it had been one of the most intense orgasms of her life. He was far too smug about his bedroom skills as it was, and she didn't want him to become complacent.

"I just… I wanted to be careful," he said in a quiet voice, nuzzling against her cheek.

Every time she thought she couldn't possibly love him any more than she already did, he managed to prove her wrong, she thought. Trailing her fingers over his shoulder and up his neck, she caressed the back of his neck.

"I do too," she whispered. "But we talked to the doctor, and she said it was fine…"

"I know, I just… I don't want to take any chances. If I did something to…. " He swallowed, sliding his hand down to rest along the side of her belly. "I would never forgive myself," he finished in a low voice.

She nodded and drew his face up to hers, giving him a lingering kiss.

"I love you," she said against his mouth.

She felt him smile.

"I love you too," he murmured, pulling back to look at her, his dark eyes appearing almost black in the soft candlelight.

They remained like that for several minutes before he finally withdrew, a soft sound of protest falling from her lips as they separated.

He nudged her over onto her other side and drew her back against his chest- legs intertwined, her head tucked underneath his chin, his hand curved gently around her stomach. They fit together so perfectly, she thought, her mind foggy with post-coital bliss.

"You'd better go ahead and line up a sitter for six weeks, to the day, after this baby is born," he said, twining their fingers together over her belly. "Because you and I-" He paused to place a kiss on the top of her head "-are going to be fucking each other senseless all night long."

Blair inhaled sharply, their interlaced hands jumping slightly over her stomach.

Chuck made a surprised sound. "Did he just kick in response to-"

"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, he did."

"That's my boy," he said proudly.

Blair rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile tugging at the edges of her lips. Snuggling back against him, she let her head relax into the pillow, and succumbed to sleep.

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><p>.<p>

She stirred several hours later, rolling over and instinctively reaching across the bed. But when her hands touched only cool sheets, she blinked, and pushed herself up to a sitting position with one hand to look around the dark, quiet room. There was no sign of Chuck.

The clock on the nightstand read 3:05am.

Tossing the covers aside, Blair swung her legs to the side of the bed and set her feet on the floor, shivering slightly as she felt the cool air on her naked skin. After eyeing her flimsy little silk robe with skepticism, she settled instead on one of Chuck's soft cotton undershirts and a pair of his silk pajama pants, rolling them around her hips so the legs didn't drag on the floor.

Padding out of the bedroom, her bare feet silent against the carpet, she spotted him immediately. He was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the living room, his figure silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline. He stared pensively out at the city with his hands in the pockets of his robe, seemingly unaware of her presence.

Blair leaned against the doorframe, her eyes trailing lovingly over his familiar form. She felt a surge of affection towards him as she remembered an evening not quite four months ago…

.

_He was swirling a glass of scotch in his hands, taking a long, smooth swallow of the amber liquid as he stared out at the gleaming cityscape. And she was following the movement with her eyes, her heart pounding nervously in her chest._

_Glancing down once again to the plastic stick clenched in her trembling hands, she reminded herself that this was good news. Sure, they hadn't planned it. And their lives were incredibly hectic at the moment- she was balancing a full course load with a fulltime internship at Vogue, and he'd been working overtime for months on his European expansion plans. They hadn't even had time to start planning the wedding yet._

_And part of her was worried that she was about to throw a giant wrench into the works just when their relationship was finally perfect. _

_There wasn't a day that went by when she didn't reflect on how lucky they were. That their love had proved stronger than all the hurt, and the anger, and the lies that had nearly torn them apart._

_It hadn't been quick, and it certainly hadn't been easy. It had taken months of therapy to rebuild the trust between them, to give each other time and space to heal. To overcome the defenses he'd put up and convince him that she wanted him, that she _chose_ him, and had chosen him for life._

_For a year and a half, their relationship had been rock-solid. They were deeply in love and absolutely devoted to each other, and no one who spent even five minutes in their presence could doubt it. Serena had said as much to Blair during a conversation a few weeks ago: "You two are forever, B. You'd have to be an idiot not to see that."_

_But now she was about to tell Chuck something that would change both of their lives forever, and she was suddenly overcome with fear. Fear that this would dredge up the most painful period of their history, reopening wounds that had finally healed. Fear that it would bring back all of his doubts and insecurities about their relationship._

_Fear that maybe he wouldn't really want a baby. At least, not right now. Maybe he would put on a good show of it, for her sake- but he was only 22 years old and just starting to establish himself in the business world. And this had never been part of their plan. _

_Taking a deep breath, Blair made her way towards her fiancé, feeling her legs shake beneath her._

"_Hey," he said in his low drawl, seeing her reflection in the window. He turned to greet her, a contented smile softening his features. "How was your bath?"_

_She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His gaze sharpened over her anxious expression and he frowned in concern._

"_What's wrong?" he asked, placing his glass on the bar table and reaching out to take her hand in his._

_Encountering the plastic stick clutched firmly in her fist, he looked down in confusion- and then recognition suddenly dawned in his eyes. _

"_I'm pregnant," she blurted out._

"_You're…" he trailed off, looking like all the breath had left his body. _

"… _pregnant," she repeated, more quietly this time. _

_Her teeth sank nervously into her lower lip as her eyes scanned his face, seeking any sign of his reaction._

_It was a little unfair, she knew- she'd had a good twenty minutes to freak out alone in the bathroom, and he'd had all of ten seconds to process it._

"_You're pregnant," he echoed in a stunned voice. "You're having a baby. With me."_

_Blair furrowed her brow. "No, with Dan Humphrey," she replied in mock-annoyance. "Of course I'm having a baby with you!"_

_Chuck's gaze lifted to meet hers. And the moment she saw his eyes, shining with wonder and elation, she knew her fears had been unfounded._

_The expression on his face, lit up with sheer, unbridled joy- it was an expression she knew she'd remember for the rest of her life._

_Every trace of her hesitation vanished, and she found herself grinning back at him like an idiot._

_Breathing audibly, he turned their intertwined hands over and looked down at the stick, as if to reassure himself that it was actually true. _

_The blue plus symbol was unmistakable. _

_They both stared at it for a moment in reverence, their hands clasped tightly together._

_All of a sudden, Chuck cleared his throat. "So, just to be clear…" He gestured towards the stick they were both holding, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a wry smile. "You peed on this?"_

"_Yup," she replied happily. _

"_Just checking," he replied wryly, and pulled her into a tender kiss._

_He followed it with more and more fervent kisses until they were both left nearly breathless. Then he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her so tightly that she felt her feet leave the ground. For the space of several seconds, she was floating in his arms._

"_We're having a baby," she whispered into his shoulder, blinking back tears from her eyes._

_She felt him take a deep, unsteady breath, and he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers. She could feel the rapid thump of his heartbeat, the slight tremble of his hand as it curled around hers. _

"_I love you so much, Blair," he murmured._

"_I love you too," she said quietly._

_The feeling was so intense, so overwhelming, she thought her heart might actually burst out of her chest._

_They remained locked in that embrace for what might have been hours, just holding each other. Savoring the perfection of the moment._

.

Blair smiled, a warm feeling of contentment welling up inside her at the memory.

Quietly clearing her throat so he would be aware of her presence, she made her way towards Chuck. Lost in thought, he didn't notice her until she was right next to him.

"Hey," he murmured in surprise, sliding one arm around her shoulders and drawing her against him. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"You know I don't sleep well without you," she responded with a little smile.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, enjoying his comforting scent and the warmth of his body. She could tell something was bothering him, but she wasn't going to push him to talk about it. She knew he would tell her if it were important.

"How was your appointment today?" he asked after a long silence, rubbing one hand across the side of her belly. "I meant to ask you as soon as I got home, but I was… distracted."

"Fine," she replied, smirking at his little innuendo. "Same as the last one."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it," he apologized. "I tried to reschedule that board meeting this morning-"

"Chuck, you don't have to come to every single appointment, you have a company to run," she interrupted, giving him an affectionate squeeze. "Actually, it went much more smoothly without you there to interrogate the doctor about whatever you read on the Internet this week."

She could feel his offended huff against her cheek.

"I don't see how asking a few informed questions qualifies as 'interrogation,'" he said defensively.

"She also told me to tell you," Blair continued, "that there's no reason for a healthy pregnant woman to have a checkup every single week."

"Well, there's no reason _not_ to."

"And that if you don't stop calling her cell phone after hours because my back hurts or my ankles are swollen or I seem 'unusually moody', she's going to start screening your calls," she finished, gazing up at him with equal parts affection and amusement.

Chuck breathed out a frustrated sigh.

"Maybe it's time we found you a new doctor-" he began.

"_Chuck_," she rebuked him gently. "Don't you think you're being just a little bit over-protective?"

That was the understatement of the century, she thought to herself. Ever since she'd found out she was pregnant, she'd had more medical care than the average person probably received in an entire lifetime. And now that she was showing, he barely allowed her to lift a finger, making sure his staff of servants accommodated her every need.

He'd even proposed that she take 'incompletes' in her classes in order to postpone the stress of finals until after the baby was born. She'd replied frostily that she would move back into her mother's house if he even dared suggest such a thing again.

She felt him take a deep breath, his chest rising and then falling under her cheek.

"I just…" He paused, his arms tightening around her. "I just want to take care of you."

"And you _are_," she asserted. "You're doing enough- more than enough."

"It's not enough," he insisted. "Because I can't…" He trailed off, pressing his face against the top of her head.

"You can't what?" she asked softly.

He was quiet for a long moment. He stared past her out the window, his jaw tensing almost imperceptibly.

Looking like someone with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"I can't make sure everything's okay," he admitted finally. "I can't make sure… it doesn't happen again."

She absorbed this information in silence, her heart swelling in her chest at his quiet admission.

"Why didn't you talk to me about this before?" she asked quietly.

She ran her hand up to cup his face, and his eyes fluttered closed in response. After a moment he opened them again, and a heavy breath escaped his lips as he finally met her gaze.

"Because I'm supposed to be supporting you, reassuring you, not…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Burdening you with my problems."

"They're _our_ problems, Chuck," she said earnestly, reaching to take his hand in hers. "We're in this together, remember?"

He stared down at their clasped hands, fidgeting with the enormous diamond on her ring finger. She could feel the tension in his body, the effort it was taking to maintain his composure.

"I don't know what I would do if something went wrong again," he confessed in a low undertone. "It was so hard before, and I didn't even know until… after."

She knew his words weren't meant as a reproach, but that didn't stop a pang of guilt from darting into her chest .

"And now that everything's going so well, if we lost him…" He trailed off, his voice growing hoarse in his throat. "I don't know if I could handle that."

She could hear the fear and uncertainty in his voice, the vulnerability that he normally kept hidden under an inscrutable façade… and it made her heart ache.

Chuck had once lived like he had nothing to lose, because he'd actually believed that to be the case. And there had been some particularly dark periods- incidents that distressed Blair too much to think about- when he hadn't considered his life even worth living.

Now that he was actually happy, now that he finally had everything he'd ever wanted- he had everything to lose. And he was much more fearful, much more vulnerable, as a result.

So she pulled their clasped hands to his mouth, and kissed the back of his fingers to comfort him. She gazed up at him, her eyes warm with conviction.

"You won't have to, Chuck," she assured him. "He's going to be fine."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked quietly.

"Some babies just… aren't meant for this world." She swallowed, gripping his hand more tightly, and moved it downwards to cradle her belly. "But I know this one is."

Chuck slowly nodded, his eyes shining with moisture in the dim light. He turned her slightly so she was facing the window, and wrapped his arms around her waist and nestled his face against the side of her head. She could feel his warm breath against her ear, his hands curved protectively around her middle.

Together they looked out over their city, silently pondering their future together.

"Like it or not, Bass, you're going to have a real live baby to take care of in about… three months," she murmured, a smile quirking the corners of her mouth. "So maybe you should be more concerned with, I dunno, learning how to change diapers, or devising some sort of babyproof storage system for your sex toys."

"_My_ sex toys?" He scoffed. "Are you still pretending the swing wasn't your idea?"

"Or," she continued, ignoring his interjection, "deciding on a name for the baby."

"I thought we agreed that Bartholemew was a good option," he reminded her.

"No, what we _agreed_ was that The Simpsons have ruined that name for, at minimum, the next decade," she countered. "Anyway, I was thinking something more classic, more… refined."

She heard him grumble under his breath and smiled victoriously.

"Fine," he conceded. "Such as?"

"I was thinking…" She paused for effect. "Lucien. Lucien Bass."

She frowned in confusion when she got only silence in response.

"Well?" she prodded, turning around to face him.

"You do realize that any baby with half your genes and half my genes will be exactly zero percent French, right?" he asked dryly.

"But…" She frowned. "He'll spend vacations at Daddy's vineyard..."

"Also," Chuck continued, "I'd rather our son not get beat up until he's old enough to do something to deserve it. So I think a less prissy name is in order."

Blair huffed indignantly. "It is _not_-"

"No one, in the history of time, has ever been intimidated by anyone named Lucien," he said firmly.

"I didn't realize we were trying to make people afraid of our baby," she replied, annoyed.

"Well, one day he'll be running Bass Industries," Chuck said confidently. "So he'll need to command a certain amount of… respect."

"Maybe he won't want to run Bass Industries," she shot back, mostly just to be contrary.

"Well, not if you name him Lucien," Chuck replied, unperturbed. "He'll probably turn out to be a Trustafarian. And spend all of his time at hipster coffee shops and pretentious poetry readings in Williamsburg, railing against capitalism."

Blair rolled her eyes.

"Or perhaps _Lucien_ would prefer to ride around on a bicycle with a basket full of baguettes, wearing a beret and playing a harmonica," he continued drolly.

A very unladylike snort of laughter escaped her lips before she could contain it.

"Alright, fine," she relented. "You pretty much just ruined the name for me anyway."

There was a pause.

"He'll probably wear skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts," Chuck added. "And-"

Blair stopped his mouth with a kiss, and he responded with enthusiasm for several seconds before he spoke again.

"Let's make a deal," he proposed against her mouth.

She pulled back, frowning suspiciously.

"What deal?"

"I name the boys, and you name the girls," he replied, lifting one hand to stroke it against her cheek. He gazed down at her, his hazel eyes warm with adoration.

"Who says there's going to be more than one?" she asked archly.

"Come on, Waldorf," he said smugly. "You've never been able to resist me."

As if to prove it, he slid his hands around her back and down to her ass, cupping it with both palms and pulling her hips tightly against his. She could feel her pulse start to quicken, her body instinctively arching against him.

"Do I at least get veto power?" she asked breathlessly, determined to get a concession before she ended up caving entirely.

"I'll concede veto power," he agreed with an indulgent smile.

He dipped to slide his hand under her knees and scooped her up into his arms.

"Still light as a feather," he proclaimed, steadying his grip and pretending to wheeze in exertion.

She giggled, clasping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck, as he slowly, carefully, lovingly carried her back to bed.

.

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**A/N**: So, I really hope you guys enjoyed this. I probably put more into it than anything I've written so far- but it was totally worth it to finally give CB the happy ending they deserve.

Reviews and encouragement are always much appreciated :)

Thanks so much to Terrabeth for betaing- honestly, this wouldn't have been even half as good without your help. And special props for the, uh, sexting assistance. Apologies for whatever creepy Google ads you're now getting as a result.

And thanks to my lovely reviewers: _Lenore 2410, busybee90us2003, E, Erica514, TriGemini, GGfan73104, Aliennut, wrighthangal, notoutforawalk, sallysally, CheeryFan, annablake, Love Still Stands, bfan, SaNaa.91, maryl, RauhlPrincess, Temp02, Prinniegg, Eternally Romantic, maxiana-x, Luftslott, and Ladynet. _You guys are seriously the best.

Also, the text messaging bug? I didn't make that up. Thankfully my gaffes were of the G-rated variety, but... watch out if you have a Droid :)


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